


Saturday Night

by thecanadiananimagus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Firefighter Ron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecanadiananimagus/pseuds/thecanadiananimagus
Summary: Hermione finds that the laundry room in her building is occupied by someone else. And it happens he isn’t wearing any clothes
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Saturday Night

For Hermione, the only night she had time for herself was laundry night.

Hermione never had free time. That had been the case ever since she was fifteen years old.

Back then, Hermione attended one of the best secondary schools in the entire country, managed to establish herself as ‘the brightest girl of her age’, was at the top of every class, and managed to graduate three years early.

None of that could be accomplished without plenty of sacrifice; her free time was the first thing to go out the window.

Fast forward ten years later and virtually nothing changed. Her social life was non-existent, her cat Crookshanks was grumpy as ever, her hair was still bushy, and Hermione hadn’t even grown an inch since then (operating on four and a half hours of sleep every night didn’t provide much opportunity for growing).

The one notable change was school.

Straight out of university, Hermione took a job working for the prime minister. The hours were terrible, the pay was nothing to be proud of, and basically every one of her superiors underappreciated her.

Still, there was always one night a week where she didn’t get a call from her office; Saturday night, which happened to be the night she did her laundry.

It instantly became her favourite night. Hermione would go down to the basement of her building with a basket full of her clothes, sit on the counter for hours, and just read. What with everyone else being busy having an actual life, Hermione had the whole place to herself – just the way she liked it.

This night, however, was different.

When Hermione made it down to the basement, she noticed that the laundry room door had been partially opened already, the quiet rumble of a washing machine coming from it. Through the gap, Hermione could see that the lights were already on.

Someone else was in there.

Hermione continued down the hall on her tiptoes, trying to remain silent.

Setting her laundry basket on the floor, she held her face to the door, peering inside to see who was intruding on her night. Immediately, a blush crept to Hermione’s cheeks.

There was indeed someone else in there - a young man who couldn’t have been older than herself, his face covered with freckles paired with flaming red hair. He was sitting in _her_ place on the counter, but unlike herself, his feet were touching the ground.

Hermione nearly failed to take any of this information in. There was something she just couldn’t stop focusing on. This man – whoever he was – didn’t have any clothes on, except for a pair of red and gold boxers.

Her eyes travelled up and down his body, making note of his large hands and feet. Hermione shut her eyes, shaking her head in an attempt to get her mind out of the gutter.

She turned around, leaning against the wall, letting out a deep breath.

It was no big deal, right? Something as simple as a bloke wasn’t going to keep her from enjoying her night off. Hermione could just walk in there, start reading, and pretend he wasn’t even there. Besides, there were enough washing machines to go around.

Picking up her basket, she pushed open the door, and let out a squeak.

The man turned to her, startled, ears turning as red as his hair.

When she approached, both he and Hermione looked down and said nothing to each other.

With the undeniably attractive stranger behind her, she began separating her clothes, tapping her foot against the floor repeatedly. It was the greatest exercise in self-control she’d received to not look over her shoulder.

He may have been sitting in her spot, but that didn’t mean things had to change.

Pulling her book out from the bottom of her basket, Hermione hopped up onto the counter, sitting mere inches from him, her feet dangling in the air.

‘Why is he so hot?’ Hermione asked herself internally.

Not only was she curious about his looks, but she could sense the heat emanating from his body. It was as if she was sitting next to a roaring fire, causing her to sweat heavily. He couldn’t have been blushing _that_ much.

Hermione opened her book to its marked page, trying to settle in like every other Saturday night. For obvious reasons, she couldn’t concentrate on the words in front of her.

Instead, her attention completely shifted to him. Now that she was closer, Hermione saw that it wasn’t just his face, but his entire body that was covered in freckles. He kept averting his gaze, but eventually, she caught a glimpse of his blue eyes.

As the time passed, Hermione’s list of questions became longer; one of her top one’s being ‘what are those scars on his arms?’ They were partially faded, but looked painful. She spent God knows how long trying to figure out how he obtained them.

Finally, she couldn’t take it.

Hermione slammed her book shut, dropped it onto the counter with a thud, and asked him:

“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?!”

He jumped, scooting away from her. Hermione realized her tone came off way more demanding than she intended, but there was no going back now.

“Well, I uh –” he stammered, his face somehow growing even more red. “– I don’t have clothes on, yeah. For a while there, I thought you didn’t notice…. I - I really hope I haven’t offended you, it’s just that… I don’t have any clothes to wear.” he gestured to his washing machine.

“That’s fairly obvious.” Hermione said, adjusting her posture in an attempt to appear taller.

“Yeah, you’re right, I’ll start over. I’m a firefighter.”

Somehow, he thought that would explain everything. It took a few seconds for him to register the puzzled look on his face, making him realize he had to explain himself even more.

“I wasn’t on the job or anything. Me and my best mate, Harry, were hanging out earlier tonight, and we saw a building burning down. We went in to see if anyone else was inside, got a few people out, and long story short my clothes ended up smelling like smoke. Oh, and Harry’s a firefighter too, not some crazy bloke who runs into burning buildings for the hell of it. Anyways, when I got home to change, I remembered I’d been putting off my laundry all week and I didn’t have anything to wear.”

Well, there goes a few of her questions. And his profession explained why he was in such good shape.

“You have dirt on your nose.” Hermione said, screaming at herself internally. Of all the stupid things she could have said, why did it have to be that? “Did you know? Just there.” she rubbed her own nose on the right side.

He mirrored her, using his thumb to clear the dirt away. Raising his eyebrows for confirmation, she nodded, flashing him a brief smile.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Hermione Granger.” she extended her hand which he shook firmly, the size difference becoming even more apparent. “Who are you?”

“I’m Ron Weasley.”

From there, their conversation started off pretty conventional. Any siblings? Only child vs five brothers and one sister. How long have you lived in the building? Seven years vs a week. Any pets? A cat vs (oddly enough) and owl called Pig.

“It’s stupid, I know.” Ron said with a grin. Meanwhile, Hermione couldn’t stop laughing. “My sister picked the name. She reckoned it was sweet… somehow. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won’t answer to anything else. So now he’s Pig. His proper name is Pigwidgeon.”

“That’s not even a proper name.”

“Really?” he said with fake shock. “I had no idea.”

Minimal focus was placed on laundry, and Hermione didn’t pick up her book again. Instead, she found something far more entertaining.

As it turned out, Ron was an avid debater, much like herself. Somehow (and she wasn’t quite sure how the conversation managed to get to this point) they ended up arguing over anything and everything.

It didn’t put either of them in a poor mood, though.

Hermione couldn’t remember the last time someone challenged her. People would usually just agree with her – which got a bit annoying from time to time.

Eventually, the beep from the dryer put their debate on hold. Ron jumped down from the counter, quickly digging out a red t-shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Bloody hell, it’s late.” he looked over to the clock hanging on the wall, holding his own laundry basket underneath his arm. “I’d better get some sleep. My shift starts in a few hours.”

“I think you’re just leaving because you were losing.” Hermione challenged, still smiling.

“You can keep telling yourself that, if you’d like.” Ron said, now standing in the doorway. “Hey, um… do you think I’ll be able to see you again sometime?”

The answer was a no-brainer. Why would she spend time rereading a book when she could have an actual stimulating conversation? And who in their right mind would pass up a view like that?

“I’ll be right here next Saturday.”


End file.
